e
bowler runs steadily under it, judging every spin, and calling out "I
have it," catches it, and playfully pitches it on to the back of the
stalwart Jack, who is departing with a rueful countenance.

"I knew how it would be," says Tom, rising. "Come along, the game's
getting very serious."

So they leave the island and go to the tent, and after deep consultation
Arthur is sent in, and goes off to the wicket with a last exhortation
from Tom to play steady and keep his bat straight. To the suggestions
that Winter is the best bat left, Tom only replies, "Arthur is the
steadiest, and Johnson will make the runs if the wicket is only kept
up."

"I am surprised to see Arthur in the eleven," said the master, as they
stood together in front of the dense crowd, which was now closing in
round the ground.

"Well, I'm not quite sure that he ought to be in for his play," said
Tom, "but I couldn't help putting him in. It will do him so much good,
and you can't think what I owe him.".

The master smiled. The clock strikes eight, and the whole field becomes
fevered with excitement. Arthur, after two narrow escapes, scores one;
and Johnson gets the ball. The bowling and fielding are superb, and
Johnson's batting worthy the occasion. He makes here a two, and there a
one, managing to keep the ball to himself, and Arthur backs up and runs
perfectly: only eleven runs to make now, and the crowd scarcely breathe.
At last Arthur gets the ball again, and actually drives it forward for
two, and feels prouder than when he got the three best prizes, at
hearing Tom's shout of joy, "Well played, well played, young 'un!"

But the next ball is too much for a young hand, and his bails fly
different ways. Nine runs to make, and two wickets to go down--it is too
much for human nerves.

Before Winter can get in, the omnibus which is to take the Lord's men to
the train pulls up at the side of the close, and Mr. Aislabie and Tom
consult, and give out that the stumps will be drawn after the next over.
And so ends the great match. Winter and Johnson carry out their bats;
and, it being a one day's match, the Lord's men are declared the
winners, they having scored the most in the first innings.

But such a defeat is a victory: so think Tom and all the School eleven,
as they accompany their conquerors to the omnibus, and send them off
with three ringing cheers, after Mr. Aislabie has shaken hands all
round, saying to Tom, "I must compliment you, sir, o